Lost
by Kiley S. Snape
Summary: I was by no mean anything but an average British civilian...but by Fate and my own stubborn will- I met Lucas North and grew to love him. I was there in the good times and the bad- I was there when everyone else believed him to be lost. Chapters are titled by which episode they occurred in...AU in the end. Author inserted OC- flames will be used to warm my cold feet.
1. Chapter 1

Lost

by Kiley S. Snape

_Series 7 Episode 7: The Mole _

It was a relief to be returning home, like being exhumed of a long-standing disease or nightmare. My nightmare was finally over. I shouldered my carry on to secure my hold as I passed through the boarding terminal, and glanced back at Moscow one last time. For so long, I had written this place off as the ultimate deception- the city that held so much history and beauty- was consumed by the blood, grief, and lies. And I believed the blaring lies for a time, but things were different. I was different.

I stepped out of the airport and made my way across the tarmac to the plane that would deliver me home; just as one its kin had done years ago. I jerked involuntarily when I felt someone take hold of my wrist to get my attention. _Harsh, calloused hands clutched me intently, and I could not see the path in front of me as I was shoved through the endless darkness._ I took a deep breath to break away from the memory, and glanced over my shoulder. "_Oh, thank you,_" I gasped, and gently took back the novel that had fallen out of my satchel.

The man who returned it to me said nothing in turn, in fact- he did not even bat an eye in my direction as he brushed past me with purpose. He possessed a most striking personage, and I greedily took him in. He exuded power, respect, and yet he seemed so displaced. His penetrating, steely azure did not miss a single detail. He moved in lissom tandem- with such restrained grace- like he was some fallen angel. I shook my head, and chided myself at my Romanticised reverie. I hurried onto the plane was guided into my seat by an overbearing flight attendant.

"_How was your time in Russia?_" the woman inquired congenially(?).

"_Cleansing,_" I replied cryptically, and dropped unceremoniously into my seat. I perused through my worn copy of _Stories_ until the book fell open to one of my favourites. I ignored my temporary travelling companion as he shimmied between my knees and the seat in front of me to take a seat in the chair next to me. I inwardly cringed as the attendants executed their saccharine routine of safety procedure, and again when the lurching momentum of the plane taking off the runway.

A few hours into the flight and whilst turning the page of my book, I glanced over at the man sitting beside me. I was surprised and pleased to discover that it was the entrancing man that had returned my book to me before we had boarded the same plane. My first observation was that he was incredibly tense despite his relaxed façade of indifference. Next came the second realisation of how ensnaring his eyes truly were- all penetrating and yet impenetrable. He looked down avidly at what appeared to be a small roll of film, which was held carefully in his slightly calloused fingers.

"_What brought you to Moscow?_" I asked softly, eyes still fixed upon the roll of film as I tried to figure out what it was- or what could be contained in such an innocuous object.

"_Visiting,_" he replied curtly. He reminded me of my father, the way he warily cast his eyes about to fall upon each passenger to take in every minor detail...like the hunter realised he had become the hunted.

"_Strange place, isn't it? So different than back home,_" I agreed, and the corners of my lips quirked upwards in a brief smile, "_But I am glad I decided to go._"

He was statue, perhaps he thought that if he ignored me I would be offended and resist the innate desire to converse with him...he thought wrong.

"_My name is Kiley Jensen of the United Kingdom,_" I introduced myself in archaic mirth.

"_I did not know the Queen had knighted such a curmudgeon._"

Oh, he was good. I laughed wryly and inquired, "_So what's your name and where are you from?_"

"James Arrington, London."

_Ah, a fellow Jack_...that was oddly soothing. I flashed him a warm smile, and then said in farewell, "Well- I won't bore you anymore than I already have. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, James." I nestled back in my seat and resumed my return to Chekhov's world; however, the surge of emotions from my trip soon caught up with me and I soon fell asleep.

'_Tell us what you know,' a man crooned in my ear. _

_ 'I-I don't know what you want...please- please, I just want to go home. Why are you doing this?' I whimpered between violently trembling lips. _

_ 'Oh, you know what we want,' another murmured from the dark corner of the room, 'Our intel assures us you know. So I will ask you again, what do you know?'_

I jerked awake just before the tell-tale popping crackle played itself over in my mind. My chest heaved, a cold sweat made my brow clammy, and my hands gripped the armrests of my seat in a bruising force.

"_Miss, are you all right?_" I flinched when a stewardess' hand gently gripped my shoulder as she gently whispered her question.

"_B-Bad- Bad dream,_" I stammered, nearly incoherent.

"Some bad dream," James mused darkly as he stared out the small window.

I drummed my fingers erratically on my temple to distract myself from the tide of memories that tried to pull close to the forefront of my mind. "Are you a fan of Chekhov?" I inquired, tone beseeching for him to humour me.

"I prefer Blake," James answered.

"Any favourites?"

James gave me a wry, albeit exacerbated, look- which in turn caused me to laugh. An answer I had for many pieces of literature. "And yourself?"

"Blake is splendid in his distrust, but I would have to say that Frost is the only one that has managed to capture my heart for such a long time," I replied.

"Preferences?"

"_The Road Not Taken_, _After Apple Picking_, and of course- _Birches_. I am actually quite a fan of Pablo Neruda as well." At the latter portion of my reply, James scoffed in evident distaste, and to which I scowled fiercely at him. "Problem?"

"Only your apparent admiration for a Communist," James murmured faintly, keeping his voice low so that he went unheard by everyone but me.

"He was a lover of the ideal, but he loathed it just as much," I protested adamantly.

"You seemed convinced that you are right."

"Of course, I am right- I did an extensive paper on the topic in school," I agreed sardonically(?), and flashed him a knowing smile, "Best not get into an argument with an English major about such topics, Mr. Arrington." I glanced down at the roll of film still held almost protectively in his hand and asked, "So come on then, what's on there?"

His eyes flickered dangerously and his hand unconsciously tightened around the plastic container. "Nothing special," he dismissed.

I knew that tone. He was lying- in the no-nonsense tone that my father would use when I asked him about where he had been. I also noted how easy the lie came to mind; either he was a compulsive liar or he had practise- and my guess was on the latter. I also knew better than to ask questions I knew would not get answered in any manner except for silence.

"_Attention, passengers, this is your pilot speaking, I just wanted to let you know that we will be landing in London shortly. So, if you all could return to your seat and fasten your seatbelts- it would be much appreciated._" the captain explained, and was followed by various other translations from the initial Russian.

I tidied up the area around my seat, and carefully placed my copy of _Stories_ back into my satchel- all the while, my full attention was latently fixed upon James. He was as equally stoic as he was handsome; a heady partnership that made it nearly impossible to look away. "Well, it was nice meeting you, James Arrington," I said with a blushing smile.

He held out his hand for me to shake, and my eyes dipped to the expanse of skin revealed from his shirt sleeve riding up. Five dots- just like the pattern found on the face of a di- he had done prison time...and solitary confinement at that. I tucked away that useless information and took hold of the proffered hand. His finger wrapped around my hand with such surety that a delightful shiver trickled down the length of my spine. I gently returned the squeeze and then reluctantly released his hand; he was almost magnetic in the way he ensnared my attention in only a four hour flight. "You as well, Kiley Jensen," he murmured faintly, and smiled gently.

"Perhaps we will each other again, eh?" I mused, latently hopeful.

"London isn't the big city everyone thinks," James concurred, and fidgeted with the strap of his backpack.

"What is it you do?" I asked as we stood in line in the aisle of the plane. The woman in front of me reeked of cheap Asian perfume, and I did not fail to notice how she eyed James appreciatively over her shoulder.

I was busy glaring at her that I did not notice I was holding up the passengers behind me. "Kiley, please move," James murmured, the heat of his breath crashed against the hypersensitive shell of my ear.

I blushed and stammered an incoherent apology that was unable to be heard by anyone, let alone myself even. I hurried down the aisle, nearly falling over my feet in the process, and I could not help the smile that curved my lips when I saw the familiar skyline of home. I turned my head to look back at James over my shoulder to say farewell, but I immediately grew crestfallen. James was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Series 7 Episode 8: Rain from Heaven_,_ Part One_

I was once again thinking about James as I walked along the almost unbearably crowded street along one of the many London underground stations on my way home from work. I am one of the few who can proudly say I love my job- albeit my occupation not at all being what I had in mind when graduating from university. But it was low profile, the pay was good, and I was not trapped in a web of secrets. In fact, I was taking care of an eight year old boy as his full time nanny- the most enjoyable part was that I was able to be his tutor for an array of subjects. "Sorry," I murmured when I knocked into someone in my reverie. My head snapped to follow said person when I recognised who it was, but what scared me more was the blood that marred my hand.

"James?" I called out, but my voice came out faint in my surprise. "James!" I shouted, gaining the person in question's attention along with those around me.

"Kiley- what are you doing here?" he demanded, still on the move. He was clutching his right side, but I could still see the dark stain of his blood on his shirt.

"I live nearby...who are they?" I inquired slowly in retort, jerking my head in the direction of the two women he was with. He ignored my questions and continued to make his way along whatever route he had in mind, but I was in hot pursuit. He was hurt, and I could not walk away knowing that truth.

"Lucas, we don't have time for this!" the blonde woman growled.

"Why is she calling you Lucas, James?" I followed them into the station, weaving through the crowd to the side of the building. James-Lucas- broke the keypad that secured the maintenance door and ushered the two women in. The other woman, who had spoken nothing to me, cast an almost feral grin at me as she ducked in. She looked familiar, but I could not figure out why.

"Kiley, you need to leave," James-Lucas growled, casting his eyes over my shoulder warily as he barred my way from following the group.

"You're hurt- I can't-" I began to protest angrily.

"-Kiley, you need to go- now," James-Lucas interjected, "You do not need to get caught in the middle of this-"

"-You're part of Section D," I concluded aloud, causing both of our eyes to widen.

"Get inside!" James-Lucas hissed, roughly dragging me in suddenly, "You stupid girl!"

I wrenched my arm out of his grip and glared darkly at him. Not much in tactics had changed, I surmised, but obviously something was about to go terribly wrong. "Look, I know my way about most things a standard civilian doesn't- so I can help," I argued, "Tell me what I need to know!"

"We are currently being chased by FSB agents who mean to kill us," the older woman quipped, gleeful in giving me information that obviously was not meant to be shared, "And since Lucas has dragged you inside- I imagine that the FSB think you are MI-5 as well." She almost seemed patronising as she looked at the man I now knew as Lucas. "My my, Lucas, who has been keeping you company whilst you were off the Grid?"

"Leave her out of it!" Lucas spat, "Come on, we have to get moving. London's riddled with disused tunnels- we can use them to get to London Bridge undetected."

I wordlessly followed Lucas, keeping an eye fixed on the bloodstain that was only getting darker as we hurried along the disused underground tram tunnels. We passed through what appeared to be a platform gate, filled with corroded wires and broken bulbs, and I saw Lucas stop to booby trap the metal gate that sealed us off from our pursuers.

"No no no," I chided him, stepping in front of to fix the flaws of his trap, "If you leave the wires right where they can see them, then all this trap will do is delay them. What we need to do is chip off whomever we can before they catch up." I fixed the placement of the circuit's wires to that they ran along the frame of the door, and then moved the power source so that it was no easily disabled.

"And where would a civilian pick up something like that?"

"I'm not the commonwealth," I dismissed, and I frowned to myself when I felt the older woman's eyes on me. _Who was she?_

"Well you two took your time," the blonde woman snapped impatiently.

"Would you like for them to catch up to us? Kiley just gave us time and possibly took down one of their agents," Lucas retorted, latently proud, and clutched at his side when he breathed too deeply. "That way," he added.

"How bad is it?" his partner inquired, eying the wound warily.

"It's fine- missed all the important stuff," Lucas dismissed.

"Don't speak too soon," the blonde Spook countered faintly.

"I should bandage that for you," I murmured in agreement, and reached out to do so. I stopped myself when I saw my hand was stained a muted copper from Lucas' dried blood from earlier. _My hands were stained copper, old and new blood coated my hands in cacophonous layers- _stay focused.

"That's live," the blonde warned as we stepped down on to the tube tracks, and as we entered the darkness I drew closer Lucas. Our fingers brushed against each other for the most surreal, brief moment and I felt the tell-tale shock reverberate up the length of my arm. Lucas glanced down at me out of the corner of my eye, and I blushed faintly in response.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I took another wary glance over my shoulder. FSB agents- how long had it been since I had seen them? _Years...and too few at that._

"Shit." Lucas' curse drew me out of my reverie and I saw that a tram blocked our progress in the disused tunnel.

"Whose idea was this again?"

"I forget," Lucas mused wryly.

We hurried on to the tram, and immediately my senses were filled with a foul stench. We passed through the first car without any delays, but as we worked our way through the last car- a woman jumped out at the blonde agent.

"Gnahhhuh! Leave it alone- leave it alone!" she shrieked.

"It's fine, we don't want any of your stuff- we just want to pass."

"It's not stuff- it's mine! Leave it alone!" the ragabond argued hoarsely.

"Here, take my watch," the blonde explained as she undid the clasp securing it to her wrist.

"Leave it alone."

"Whatever," the blonde replied testily, "Move!"

As I walked past, I stopped to kneel before the cowering woman. "I am not going to hurt you," I murmured gently, and dug through my coat's pockets. I withdrew a ten pound note and slowly placed it front of the woman.

"Mine!" she hissed, snatching the money off the ground before I had entirely let go.

"Yes, yours," I assured her tenderly, and rose to my feet.

"Hurry up!" the blonde barked at me over her shoulder.

I jogged in order to catch up and soon fell into step with Lucas once more. He guided us through the labyrinth of abandoned tunnels with experienced ease. "This is the service tunnel we need," he announced, stepping to the side to let us pass, "It will take us directly to London Bridge."

"Well this is fun," I teased faintly.

"You are handling this very well," Lucas added in jest, "Do you look forward to the potential gunfight?"

"We need to hurry!" the blonde urged us all impatiently, successfully upping our pace.

I inwardly thanked my father for the demanding, over-rigorous routine he had given to me since a child- and one I still did even though his murder was more than four years ago- for it was probably the only thing that kept me from crumbling to the dusty floor in exhaustion. We lurched to a stop when the older woman seemed in desperate need of a respite.

"What time is it?" the blonde inquired, slightly winded.

"Half past," Lucas answered.

"Oh, you're not going to make it," the older woman wheezed, "Your best of survival now-"

"-Might be what?" the blonde interjected hotly.

"-To go deeper," the former finished smoothly, as if never interrupted.

"And you would do that would you? Burrow down like a rat?"

"Heheh, like a _mole_."

"Yeah, and wait for Central London to be annihilated."

"Yes," the older woman agreed, so carelessly I frowned as I questioned the possibility of the incredible likelihood that she did not possess a heart.

The agent turned away in disgust and went to converse with Lucas. I grabbed the water bottle from his bag and held it out for the woman. "I would rather you died from exhaustion than simple neglect of hydration," I mused wryly, a crooked smile quirking my lips.

"Not only do you have your father's bearing, but his sense of humour!" the woman huffed, clearly amused.

"You...you knew my father?" I asked slowly, kneeling down so that our eyes met.

Such cold eyes...not like the ones filled with hatred or malice- just detached...indifferent. She searched my face for the right word before she explained, "I worked with your father and Harry Pearce for many years. In fact, I was one of the last people to have contact with your father before his murder. Did they ever find the bastard who did it?"

I averted my eyes as an unfamiliar flood of emotion resonated in my chest. _Who was she?_ "Who...who are you?"

"My name is Connie James-"

"-I told you not to talk to her!" Lucas warned, hauling me to my feet and away from the woman.

"There's no need to be so protective of your little pet, Lucas," Connie chided patronisingly.

"Lucas," I spoke softly, both gaining his attention and sating his ire, "Let's get that wound bandaged before we don't have the time." I drew him aside, and rifled through his backpack until I found the necessary medical supplies. "Good on you thinking ahead," I chuckled faintly.

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to be shot from a rooftop by an FSB sniper, but since when isn't one injured during times like this?" He winced when I applied firm pressure to the gauze pads that I had placed on the entrance and exit wounds, and I flashed him a sympathetic smile in turn.

The haunting echo of a gunshot sounded through the tunnel, causing all of us to freeze.

"What would you do if you were them?" Lucas asked.

"Send in a runner," the blonde answered.

"So would I."

"Move!" the blonde barked, and we lurched into a sprint down the tunnel once more.

Adrenaline fueled not only my legs, but my fear- what would happen to us if we were caught? Would it be a merciful execution, or an endured session of suffering in a Russian prison? Lucas started to fall back, and I did the same. "What are you doing?"

"A trap for the runner- he'll be in too much of hurry to look for sabotage," Lucas answered. He used the cable he had nabbed somewhere and looped it through the piping that ran along the walls of the tunnel. "Hide somewhere until I come get you if you refuse to leave," Lucas sighed.

"Lucas, do be careful," I pleaded faintly, before going to take refuge behind a pile of carts and tarps. I crouched low to the ground, my head cowed between my slightly trembling knees, and tried to keep my breathing soft and indiscern. I could hear the thuds of rapid footfalls of the runner, and I tried my best to keep the memories at bay. _I had to hide- I could get to Thames House, I would be safe._ I flinched when I heard the runner catch himself across the chest with the chord strategically pulled at the perfect moment. My breath caught painfully in my chest when I heard the deafening blast of a gun fire right on the other side of my hiding spot.

I tensed violently when a hand grasped my arm and gently hauled me to my feet. I raised my hand to lash out, but recoiled when I saw that it was Lucas. "Did you kill him?"

"Yes," Lucas answered honestly, "Come along, we are almost there." He glanced back at me when I did not immediately follow him. "Kiley," he urged softly, "We need to keep going or they are going to catch up to us." He reached out and slung an arm around my shoulders as he guided us back to his companions. He took the lead at the head of the group. "Service tunnel is the safest way that way," he explained as we rounded a bend that forked off to another set of tunnels.

"What are you going to do?"

"Draw them off at the platform."

My head snapped back to look at Lucas incredulously, but I knew that he would remain adamant in his decision. My eyes darted over the handsome features that composed his face and finally met his eyes. "I will go with Lucas-"

"-What help will a civilian be-" the blonde began to say.

"-A lot more than you think, Ros," Connie James explained cryptically, her eyes fixed once more upon my person. Why could I not recall where I had seen her before? How could I forget such a predatory, emotionless personage? "Let her go," she agreed.

"I won't let-" Lucas began to argue.

I reached out and took hold of his arm to silence him. "We do not have much time, and so we mustn't delay, Lucas," I murmured, ears straining for any sound that would announce the arrivals of our pursuers. No sound came...for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

"Go," the blonde, Ros, ordered, and hauled Connie James away.

Lucas snarled angrily, but shoved me forward nonetheless. We hurried through the tunnels that led back to the platform. I stumbled over an abandoned section of tram seats that lay like an abandoned toy on the boarding platform; the force of impact scraped my palms and my left knee groaned from being the receiver of the majority of my momentum. I gritted my teeth and refused to let out the wince that slammed against the backs of my teeth in its great desire to be heard. I rose to my feet and soon caught up to Lucas. "This way," he instructed, and guided me towards a run-down escalator that would lead us back to the main station. "Shit," he hissed when the sounds of multiple pairs of feet echoed down the platform we just ducked out of. He shoved me ahead of him whilst he cocked the handgun he had taken from the FSB runner. "Be ready for anything," he warned.

Mutely, I nodded my head and took cover behind the escalator handrail opposite of him. Was this what my father had done for Queen and country for fifteen years? Running from terrorists seeking his blood more avidly than the Romans seeking out Christ to take him to Calvary? I flinched violently when bullets whistled and hurtled through the air over my head, and I watched in terrified awe as Lucas held his ground against the FSB agents.

_Click_.

My blood froze at the tell-tale sound, and my eyes jerked to look at Lucas. "Shit!" he growled, hands trembling as he looked down at the jammed gun. He only had one option left now- the only thing he could do was bluff. "_I don't want to shoot_," he called out to the agents that had taken shelter around the base of the escalator.

"_You can't shoot us all_," a man taunted.

"_No, but I can shoot you_." Lucas' threat hung heavy and bitter in the air, and for a moment I thought his trick had worked...until I heard the sound of the FSB agents climbing the motionless escalator. I yelped faintly when Lucas hauled me to my feet and clutched me to his side fiercely. "I will get you out of this," he promised in a frantic whisper as he dragged me along to where an exit was labeled. Tears began to fall from my eyes when I saw that our only chance of escape was barred and locked; Lucas pounded his fist against the interlocking chain gate and looked wildly about for another way.

There were four of them- one of them being a woman- all armed with their guns zeroed in on us.

"_Keep coming_!" Lucas urged.

"_Where are the others_?" the same man who had called out to us asked Lucas as he stepped ahead of his comrades.

"_Keep coming! Keep coming_!"

"_Where is Connie James_?" the FSB agent asked idly, indifferent to Lucas' façade of bravery. His eyes fell upon me, and a crooked grin quirked one side of his lips. "_Have we met before? I swear I have seen that beautiful look of fear before_."

Lucas growled and stepped in front of me, "_One more step and I shoot_."

"_Your gun is jammed_," the agent replied in languid dismissal, and advanced towards us.

My face grew ashen as I realized who the man was- he was one of my interrogators during my imprisonment. Wildly, I placed myself between Lucas and the FSB agent- holding out my hands in supplication when his gun darted to take aim upon me. "_It's Anastasia_," I explained cryptically in a trembling murmur, "_It's Anastasia_." How I loathed the moniker my captors had bestowed upon me, and I struggled to keep the bile that rose dangerously in my throat at bay as I voiced it.

"_Ah, little Ana, back in the fray_," the man laughed, "_When will you ever learn_?"

"_You don't have to do this_," I beseeched, "_We don't want any trouble from you._"

"_That's the problem, litte Anastasia, you have caused trouble that needs to be neutralised_."

"Kiley- get out of the way," Lucas murmured.

My eyes fluttered shut in fearful resignation as more tears fell rapidly from my eyes. This was the fate I had escaped years ago, and it had finally caught up to me. Blindly, I sought out Lucas' hand and gripped it in a bruising grip. "Lucas, you are-" I began, but was unable to continue when my voice cracked violently when I heard the gun cock.

A mobile's ring cut through deafening silence, causing my eyes to snap open. I watched as the FSB agent took a call- confusion becoming visibly apparent as the brief conversation came to a close. "Today...is your lucky day."

My knees gave out and I was sent careening into Lucas, who managed to grab me before I hit the floor. His arms were trembling from the exertion and blood loss, but he held onto me nonetheless. My chest heaved as I sobbed brokenly, my fingers dug into his chest with uncaring fierceness. "_We are alive- why are we alive_?" I inquired, unknowingly defecting into French.

The FSB conversed briefly with one another before our would-be killer turned about to face us once more. "We have been assigned to assist you," he explained, as if the time he had held a gun to my head occurred years ago..._which in fact, it had- and on multiple occasions._

"How generous," Lucas retorted, "Come along."

"It's fine, they are here to help us," Lucas announced when we met up with Ros and Connie James.

"How nice," Ros added derisively.

I sidled off away from the group as they conversed with one another; my heart threatened to dislodge itself from its attached, fixed point in my chest. _Oh god, I felt like I was going to vomit. _I crouched to the ground and held my head between my knees to keep the nausea at bay. No such luck. I heaved violently, on all fours like some sick beast, and tried to keep my body from trembling as bolts of shock bounced throughout my entirety. I wiped away the spittle that clung to the corners of my clammy lips and raked a shaky hand through my tangled mess of hair.

A gentle hand rested between my aching shoulders and a bottle of water appeared in front of me. "Go on- take it," Connie James urged faintly, "Get those electrolytes back into balance or it feels like you'll never get warm."

"Th-Thanks," I croaked brokenly, and took a small sip to swish the water around my mouth. I grimaced at the acrid aftertaste that remained from my recent expulsion, quickly spat out the soiled water, and took a frantic cleansing drink.

"What has you in such a state?"

I glanced furtively over my shoulder to make sure that we were out of hearing range from the rest of the group. "How much about my father's life did you know about?"

"I know about your...stay in Russia when you were younger," Connie James explained cryptically.

"One of them..." I murmured, "One of them- I know- from before. It's harder than I thought."

"Do you still have the nightmares?"

"They came back with a vengeance when my father was killed," I answered faintly, and wiped away the viscid sweat that clung to my brow.

"Kiley, are you all right?" Lucas inquired, eying Connie James warily as he approached.

"Just a little shaken up, she will be fine," Connie James assured him when I looked to her frantically from behind my thick curtain of hair.

"What you did...back on the platform-" Lucas began when Connie walked back.

"-Dad always said I was three parts fool- one part brave," I interjected, "Just like him in that regard." I smiled faintly to myself as I stared down at my linked hands. A glance around told me that the FSB agents had suddenly vanished, and so I looked up at Lucas. "Where...did the FSB go?"

"To retrieve a nuclear bomb positioned in the square in front of the United States' Embassy."

"A nuclear bomb?!" I exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

"Told you- you should have stayed out of this," Lucas laughed wryly.

I shot a hand and smacked him across the chest with the back of my hand and gave him a scolding glare. "Hardly the time, Lucas," I chided.

"Are you feeling better? You didn't hurt your ankle back on the platform when you took that fall, did you?"

"I'm fine- I should be asking after you," I dismissed. I reached out and raised the hem of his bloodied shirt and evaluated the bandage. I fought to keep the blush that threatened to blossom across my cheeks at the sight of his toned midriff as I took note of the damage. "We should put a clean bandage on," I concluded.

"We don't have the time, and I don't have any more in my bag," Lucas countered faintly.

The FSB returned shortly thereafter, and ran off to seek shelter from the possible nuclear explosion. I once more followed the Spooks into the depths of the London Underground; Connie James took another generous gulp of what appeared to be hard gin as we settled into a room set off from the main tunnel.

"Nervous?" Connie James taunted Ros.

"Should I be?" Ros shot back coldly.

"Right, you three should leave."

"Hurry up," Ros countered.

"I thought you weren't nervous," Connie James mused wryly as she was searching for the set of wires that would disconnect the detonator from the bomb's core. From what the make told me, this bomb was built back during the Cold War and had been dormant for quite a period of time. My father entertained my strange notion to learn how to deactivate the occasional bomb; he would bring home already neutralised bombs and watch as I tinkered with them. _You aren't going to grow up and become a terrorist, I hope?_

"I'm not."

"Big mistake."Connie took hold of the industrial cutters with the initiator wires in her other hand; she glanced up at the three of us, and then severed the wires.

A cumulitive sigh fell from our lips as the countdown ceased, and we were not blown to pieces.

_Beep...beep...beep...beep._

"Connie?" Lucas asked, panicked.

"This isn't an improvised explosion cooked up by some halfwit undergraduate- there are fail safes and initiators. By cutting that wire, I initiated a secondary countdown. A conventional explosion would go off in less than two minutes..." Connie explained in hasty precision, already setting a second plan into motion. "If I remove the uranium from the main reaction and a nuclear reaction- I need to remove the shell from the central housing, and separate the two isotopes. When I do that, the bomb cannot reach nuclear mass and will no longer be nuclear. It will, however, go up in my face- the bomb will kill whoever deactivates it. Leave, please, the three of you," she explained brokenly, hardly making sense at first.

"No," Lucas argued.

"What you've lost can sometimes be found, Lucas. I remove the uranium-it's just a bomb...I'm not scared of bombs," Connie James mused faintly.

"Connie."

"Oh, Lucas!" Connie James called out to him, "At three A.M. when the nightmares come, who do you blame? Eight years in Russian hell- who do you blame?"

"I blame Harry."

_I blame my father_.

"Then it's time to let it go- it wasn't Harry's fault. And you, Kiley Jensen, who do you blame for your father's murder and the consequences you faced for being his only child?"

"I..." I trailed off, unable to voice the truth that burned my tongue. _I blame my father_.

"Who was it, Connie? Who sold me out?" Lucas demanded.

Connie James' eyes darted to the clock counting down. "Ten seconds," she announced as she took apart the central housing and placed the uranium back in its previous holder.

"Who was it?"

"I have nine seconds-"

"-I need to know!" Lucas growled.

"Eight seconds."

"Just tell me! Say it!"

"We need to leave now," Ros ordered, taking hold of my arm and dragging me away.

"It was me. It was always me. For the both of you…"

The three of us staggered out of the room and sought refuge in an alcove in the corridor over. Lucas and Ros barred me in, doing their duty to protect the civilian, and I cringed in anticipation of the impending explosion. _It was Connie James...she murdered my father, and sent the Russians after me...it wasn't my father's fault- it wasn't his fault._ Again, I sought out Lucas for my anchor, to keep me from being dragged away by my thoughts. _After all those years of resentment for my father- petty and misguided resentment for a man already consumed by guilt_.

"Let's get out of here," Ros growled, and began to ascend to the station's ground level.

"Kiley, are you all right?" Lucas inquired faintly, and it was when his hand touched my wet cheeks that I realised I was crying. I hastily wiped at my face with the back of my hand and gave him a broken smile.

"I'm fine," I protested feebly, "Just some dust fell into my eyes."

"Right." Lucas wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me up to the station. I smiled at the people, who strolled or hurried by, as they remained safe in their ignorance.

"Lucas," I murmured, drawing the man in question away from his conversation with Ros, "Promise me you will get to the hospital when you get the chance." I slid between the bars of the gate that sealed the doorway from the public, reminiscent to a cat, and I glanced at the two Spooks. Ros was looking at me with reluctant respect, whereas Lucas was looking at me with a furrowed brow. I gave them a casual salute, and then ducked into the swarms of people.

I needed a long shower and about a pound of Kinder chocolate inhaled before I could lie to myself that I would be all right. I finished the short jaunt to my flat, and leaned against my front door after I slid inside. My hands were trembling, my legs ached, and the hole that I had so desperately tried to fill in my chest was exposed once more. The hard earned peace I had struggled so hard to obtain was snatched from me like precious porcelain taken away from the inquisitive toddler. "I'm sorry- I am so sorry," I moaned, fingers jerking painfully in my hair, and a fresh round of tears came to fruition. After all this time, I finally knew the person responsible for my father's murder and my imprisonment...and it was committed by my father's longtime friend.


	4. Chapter 4

_Days later..._

A knock sounded through my flat, and I hastily wiped my dirty hands on my apron. "Coming!" I announced as I rounded the corner into the hallway and approached the door. "About time you showed up, Julianna- Harry!" I quickly edified, and threw my arms around Sir Harry Pearce, Head of Section D. "It's so good to see you," I chirped, and scolded him after I had taken a good look at him, "You look terrible."

"Yes- well, believe it or not- but when being kidnapped, it isn't a gentle process," Harry explained in his curt, wry manner. "I was informed by my section chief that you decided to assist in MI-5 affairs the other day," he added in cool remark.

"I figured Ros would tell you- given after I had disappeared from the operation...she strikes me as one to hold back and slit the throat- if you know what I mean," I divulged.

"Kiley, don't try to make light of the situation," Harry grumbled, "You could have been killed- and for what? So that you wouldn't miss out the thrill of being nearly killed by FSB officers?"

"Harry," I warned, all gaiety gone, "Do not make light of my decision. Above all else, I saw that Lucas was hurt when we bumped into one another on the street.

"And how is it you came to make Lucas' acquaintance?"

"On a plane back from Moscow, if you must know- but I am sure you could find that out without me telling you," I concluded, "Please stop with the interrogation, Harry- I promise not to interfere with an operation again."

"See that you do," Harry advised, "For the sake of what remains of my sanity." He cleared his throat and gave me a small, genial smile. "Kiley, the reason for my visit is to inform you that we have received intel that the FSB have expressed interest in you once more."

"Why?" I demanded coolly.

"Because of your recent escapade with one of my senior officers and section chief- they think that is just cause to believe that you are MI-5 or an asset," Harry informed me, "And so I am going to request that you allow us to take you on holiday."

"Meaning you are going to babysit me," I retorted testily, "Harry, I do not need to be mollycoddled."

"This isn't about the personal background we share, Kiley," Harry sighed, "This is to fulfill my responsibility I have as Head of Section D and..."

"As a responsibility as my godfather," I finished faintly. I walked up to him and gently took hold of his arm. "Harry, I appreciate all that you have done for me, but you can't make me run away and hide the moment the threat of danger rears," I entreated.

"What will it take for you to leave London?" Harry sighed in exasperation, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Someplace warm, not overly crowded, preferably on the coast- at least near a natural body of water- and..." I trailed off as I thought of the final detail that would have to be done in order for me to leave, "The file on my father's murder- and any information Connie James might have disclosed about it in the recent past," I concluded smoothly.

"Kiley, I do not think it would be in your best interest-" Harry began to protest.

"-Harry, I need that file. I promise you I will see it returned safely to Thames House, but that is the only thing that will get me to leave London."

"Very well," Harry assented, "Be ready to leave tonight."

_Between..._

The scintillating waters of Lake Como lapped happily at my feet as I sat at the bottom of the flight of stairs whilst reading _A Year in Provence_. The Italian sun bore down upon me, and I revelled in the blazing heat. A shadow fell over me, darkening the pages of my book. "How long did it take for you to find my location?" I asked, not looking up from my reading.

"Seconds."

"Did Harry send you to check up on me?"

"That was my justification," he answered, "To see you."

"And why would want to see boring, little me?" I mused wryly, finally closing my book and looking up at Lucas.

"Well, I thought I should let you know that I did get that gunshot wound properly patched up."

At that, I laughed and added, "Well then, you can totter on back to London then, eh?" I gazed out at the lake, and smiled at the surrealism of it all. I begrudgingly withdrew my feet from the calming balm of Como's waters, and ascended the stairs. "Come on," I sighed, and waved idly for him to follow me.

"Where are your shoes?"

"I'm against them- absolutely hate the things," I answered, enjoying the feel of the smooth, well-trodden soil beneath the soles of my feet as I strolled down the lane. Lucas easily fell into step with me, and I had to take effort to control my fluttering heart. He hadn't lost a single sliver of that addicting enigmatic pull that seemed crafted for me solely; I guided Lucas through the crowded street that led up to Bellagio Point, where my temporary flat was. "Do you want to get a drink?"

"No thanks."

The tourists and local girls tittered with one another when they got an eyeful of Lucas, and I saw one bold as brass chit approach Lucas as he followed me up the stairs.

"_Would you like to get a drink_?" she purred with a quirked brow.

"_No thank you, I am actually going up with the Mrs. right there_."

Oh, how my words ached at the lie he so carefully crafted for the benefit of me. I smiled impishly back at him, and then ascended the narrow flight of stairs. I slipped into my flat after taking note of the state of the lock to make it was not picked. I slowly began gathering up the papers of my father's file, and I paused momentarily to read the latest addition to the overfilled file. It was one they found on Connie James' insurance gathering over the years.

My father was murdered by Connie James because he was in the process of discovering where her true loyalties lay. She was the one who leaked my whereabout to the FSB that resulted in me being sent to Russia for five years.

"What have you got there?"

"My asking price for being sent away like a troublesome wife," I snorted, and handed him the file, "I am sure Harry will be glad to have this back sooner than the expected arrival date." I went into the bedroom to peel of the waterlogged shirt I was wearing.

"You have tattoos," Lucas noted.

"You are lucky I am wearing a swimsuit," I added, and gave him a chiding glare over my shoulder. However, I still blushed profusely at the implication of him being in the doorway as I disrobed. I ran a quick comb through my hair before I threw on another shirt. I dropped unceremoniously onto my bed and looked at him expectantly. "So what really brings you here, Lucas?"

"Well," Lucas began, "I did actually want to come see you, but Harry actually wanted to send someone out to check up on you."

"Figures," I huffed, and angrily looked away.

"Kiley, don't be angry with Harry. The FSB take great interest in people when they show up out of nowhere and are part of a task force that opposes their ideals. I also wanted to talk to you about someone."

My heart was laid bare at his oblivious feet, and he so easily stepped on it as he walked by. I had grown attached to him- I cared deeply for him, and yet he knew nothing...nothing at all. "A woman," I predicted.

"Her name is Sarah- from the CIA," Lucas confided, "We ran into one another during a couple operations, and the other night we had dinner."

I raised my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them in an attempt to hold the quickly falling pieces of myself back together. Lucas had a woman, who could proudly call him hers. I rested my head in the dip between my knees as I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. "Tell me about her," I exhorted, hiding behind a broken smile.


	5. Chapter 5

_Series 8 Episode 4_

Tyler was having difficulties with his French conjugations again- the pluperfect always was a hassle to learn. I fiddled with the beret that threatened to fall off the back of my head. I was walking past a side street when I saw two figures- one whom seemed all too familiar. It was Lucas...and the woman I concluded to be Sarah Caulfield. She was beautiful- blonde curls and a porcelain doll face. But her eyes- they were akin to Connie James' as she had talked to me about working with my father to me. Empty, albeit calculating.

"Kiley?"

_Shit_. I stopped my silent retreat and turned to face the approaching couple with my broken smile. "Lucas, how are you?" I asked throatily, and cleared my throat as I tried to hide my true thoughts.

"Never a boring moment," Lucas laughed lightly, a possessive arm wrapped around Sarah's waist.

I wanted to cry; I wanted to pound my fists against Lucas' chest as I screamed at him. _Can't you see that there is something hidden with her?! Can't you see that she shares the same darkness as Connie James?_ Sarah Caulfield did not like me- that much was certain. Her lips were slightly pursed and her eyes roved over my person. As if she had any reason to be threatened by me- she was the Aphrodite to my Hestia.

"Italy looks good on you," Lucas noted.

"I am sure anyone from here would look better after spending several weeks in a Mediterranean climate," I dismissed smoothly, and fiddled with the worn shoulder strap of my satchel. "I need to be getting home," I lied, "I promised a friend I would have her over for."

"Good bye, Kiley," Lucas bid me softly.

"It was so nice to meet you," Sarah Caulfield chirped in turn.

"_Wish I could return the sentiment_," I grumbled in Russian under my breath, and stalked off.

I returned to my empty flat and immediately set about fixing myself a cuppa- with a finger of brandy to burn off the bitter film in my mouth. As the kettle brewed, I slumped to the floor and rested my head against a cupboard. The tears I had valiantly fought back finally surfaced and clung to my cheekbones. The ache that pulsed with the broken beat of my heart weakened the little resolve that remained. Lucas had the ability to love so strongly- those all penetrating eyes revealed as much- and yet he trapped himself with a woman like Sarah Caulfield...a woman who was paid a high salary to lie, steal, and spy. I could see why my mother had such difficulties in the time she was with my father- I could almost understand her flight when I was fourteen...almost.

"The kettle is going to whistle soon."

"_Fuck_!" I cursed darkly in Russian as I lurched unsteadily to my feet, "Lucas- it's called a doorbell- it's what average, dull people use to announce their presence."

"You answered your own accusation there, Kiley," Lucas countered wryly, crooked smile in place, "I am not seen as average...and certainly not dull."

"Would you like a cuppa?" I asked flatly, not in the mood for his antics. I did not wait for a reply and set out two cups and their saucers. I placed one on his side of the counter, and fetched the kettle from the stove as it begun to shrill loudly.

"Would you care to explain your previous statement earlier today?" Lucas inquired sternly.

"And that would be?" I shot back.

"What is it you don't like about Sarah? I am avidly awaiting your answer because you only met her for a few minutes."

"Can't you see it? She's using you!"

"Jealousy is not flattering on you, Kiley," he patronised me.

"Damn it all! If you won't let me past your defenses and secrecy- then at least let me strengthen them," I argued ardently.

Lucas crossed his arms defensively in front of him as he glared down at me. "Save your breath," he growled darkly, "Your concern is unwanted."

He made to shove past me to leave, so I thrust an arm out and barred his way. With great effort to remain in control of my temper, I gritted my teeth and murmured gently, "You may not care for me as a friend now, Lucas, but I care deeply for you. I want you to be happy...but I also want you to be safe. You deserve happiness, more than anyone I have ever met."

_Series 8 Episode 6_

I fumbled with the key to my flat in the hallway's dim light as I smiled in sad rumination at the harsh words that passed between Lucas and me before he had stormed out of my flat. I was strong enough to see him happy and in love with another woman, but not strong enough to see him in love with a woman whom I believed to have a hidden agenda. I was strong enough to let him go…but not enough to let him be with a woman cloaked in deceit. I ducked into my flat, and smiled at the view bestowed upon me from the extensive set of windows that took up the majority of my flat's west wall. "Lucas?!" I whispered incredulously when I saw his hunched figure sitting on my sofa in the moonlight. His alabaster skin glowed silver like liquid moonlight; my heart yearned to smooth away the sharp furrow upon his brow. "Lucas, what are you doing here? Are you hurt?" I asked, putting myself in a slight panic.

"You were right."

I tossed my keys carelessly onto the counter and smoothly kneeled before him. I reached out to touch him; however, when he recoiled like I was some viper, I slid away from him and leaned back on the balls of my feet. "Lucas, what happened?" I pressed.

"Sarah betrayed me- that's all you need to know."

I flinched at the unrestrained anger in his voice, but kept my features neutral. "All right," I said in turn, and stared down at my hands.

"What?" Lucas murmured, seemingly surprised.

"I know not to press about such a delicate subject for Spooks like you because..." I trailed faintly, struggling to find the courage to continue. If I finished now, Lucas would know the secret I had fought so hard to forget- the secret that almost cost me my life. "…Because my father was MI-5." I rose to my feet and padded over to the window. I settled onto the ledge and looked out at the city. Faceless people fluttered along the streets, signs and twinkling lights beckoned eager adventurers into the unknown, and it was then I realised that the world kept going even when you stopped. _ Just like it did three years ago_. I draped a leg over the edge of the ledge, the tips of my toes just barely ghosting against the floor. I jerked in surprise when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye; Lucas squeezed his tall frame in the remaining space the large window sill had to offer.

"Your father was...Why didn't you tell me?"

"When was there time?" I mused wryly with a tinge of sadness, "He was murdered years ago."

"Was that what Connie meant?"

"Yes." I combed frantic, nervous fingers through my hair to pull it back into a ponytail- a nervous habit since adolescence- only to realise that the action was futile since I did not possess a hair tie. I held my hair back with one hand before I let it fall carelessly back down.

"What was that?"

"Pardon?" I asked vaguely as I looked at him from beneath my lashes.

"Just behind the shell of your ear- almost at your hairline," Lucas murmured, brow furrowed once more. I turned my head to the side, bearing the side of my neck in question; his fingers hesitantly reached out and brushed back my cascade of hair. My eyes fluttered shut at the flooding sensation that fell over me at the feel of his calloused fingertips against my skin. One of my many covert tattoos was exposed to Lucas- a quincunx.

"You were imprisoned," Lucas whispered in apparent astonishment.

"Alone with the four watchmen," I mused darkly, brow furrowed at the assault of memories that crashed through my mind, "Like you, I've enjoyed Russian hospitality- for four years." I turned my back to him and peeled back my light tunic to expose the expanse of my back to his gaze.

"Latin?" Lucas ventured.

"Yes."

"What does it say?"

"I choose my own way to burn," I replied, and when I saw Lucas quirk his brow from over my shoulder I concluded, "Life is always on the edge of death, narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn."

"This changes-" Lucas began.

"-No, it doesn't," I interjected tenderly as I slid my shirt back into place, "You know that."

"Kiley..."

"Lucas, listen to me," I urged him, but swiftly grew despondent, "I know that none of this could ever work...but I hoped- so foolishly had I hoped."

"I am sorry...if any of my actions led you to believe that there was something more between us..."

"No, it was all me," I assured him feebly, and shrugged back the cumbersome thoughts that darted about my mind.

"I cannot risk your safety- you have had more pain and hardship than most." I turned to face him once more to look upon him with great intensity. He was a strange man- an incredibly passionate man, but an enigma nonetheless. He was my own enigma. By fate, and my own stubborn will, I had met him...and yet at the same time, I did not. He had lied to me from the very beginning, yet I inadvertently sought after him so desperately- pathetic, I know. Every time, save for tonight, we happened upon one another without conscious intention. I had seen him bleed, lash out, be laid broken and bare for all to see- I had seen him kill a man...and yet I knew nothing. But I knew there was good in him, even if he believed otherwise.

"Stay here for the night," I offered, "I have a guest room and I think being away from everything for just one night might help."

Lucas's fingers ran through my hair once more as he murmured, "Kiley...if things were different-"

"-It would remain as it does now. Do not lie to me, Lucas." I slid past him swiftly, in hopes of him missing the tears that clung to cheeks and blurred my vision. I shut my bedroom door firmly behind me, resting heavily against the steadfast frame as my legs sagged beneath me. I could hear him- he was just on the other side of the door.

I could have laughed at the irony of the situation; we were so close to one another we could have been touching...and yet between us lay a thin, undeniable barrier. I had long ago understood the truth that Section D did not cohabitate relationships of the calibre I so desperately desired. To the division I was a distraction- a weak, defenseless reliability that could all too easily be taken hostage for leverage. I turned to face the door and reached out my hand; I imagined Lucas' hand to be on the other side…that he was reaching out for me as I was him- which we were both taking advantage of the beautiful façade we shared.


	6. Chapter 6

_Series 8 Episode 8_

Two people were waiting outside my flat building- one was a woman, and the other was Lucas. I smiled brightly at him, but my smile fell when I saw the haunted gleam in his eyes. "Lucas?" I called out faintly.

"Kiley," he greeted me softly, and then motioned to the woman at his side, "This is a coworker of mine."

"Nice to meet you," I said with a smile, "Come on up...I'll put the kettle on." I led the two of them into my building, and soon the three of us were in my flat. The woman had a lovely heart shaped face, and azure eyes that wanted you to expunge your secrets to her. _I knew her…a long time ago, when I was a child, perhaps._

"Have we met before?" the woman asked.

"If you have been on the Grid long- then you knew my father."

"Who...? Wait, you cannot be little Kiley-Modo?" the woman asked, eyes wide in recognition.

"Kiley-Modo?" Lucas repeated slowly, lips quirked in a smirk.

I blushed in mortification and frantically struggled to find an answer. "A childhood nickname," I finally managed to utter.

"Let me look at you," the woman urged, stepping in front of me and gently taking hold of my shoulders. Her eyes darted all over my person as she amended the image of me that she held locked in her memory. "You have your mother's eyes, but you've got your father's bearing," she concluded.

At that, I gave her a tender smile; however, I could not remember who she was. She gave me a patient, understanding smile and murmured, "Ruth Evershed."

"Ruth!" I gasped in delight, and frantically threw my arms around her. I embraced her fiercely and reveled in the warmth that spread through me as we embraced. I had only met her a few short times...but she was a person that mattered. She was the one to help me through my debriefing upon my return from Russia. She was my anchor during that painful interlude. She leaned back to get a look at my face and she breathed wryly, "You cannot be this grown up- that means I am far too old."

I laughed and added, "That's because you are, Ruth...I didn't know you were still on the Grid."

"Harry sucked me back in."

"Kiley," Lucas began, reminding me that he was still there, "We aren't just here for an unexpected reunion." He was cut off by the kettle shrilling loudly, and I ducked into the kitchen. I set the tea service tray up and then carefully poured the tea through the strainer. I returned to my living room and placed the tray on the small table. "Help yourself," I offered, and took a seat in my father's old wingback.

Lucas initiated and took a cup of black Earl Grey to the sofa where he had sought refuge the night he stayed at my flat. "Kiley, do you remember Ros Myers?"

My spirits were brought low in forbearance of the words Lucas had yet to utter. _Another statistic to the ever rising death rate of the Section D officer. _Ros was a bit rough and abrasive, but she was lethally loyal and intuitive- my father would have enjoyed her company. "You know I do," I murmured, "It was in that hotel bombing during the talks that also took the late Home Secretary, wasn't it?"

"Nothing gets past her, does it?" Ruth mused, latently impressed with my connecting of the dots, "Definitely another trait from your father."

"Not much- if Harry wouldn't strap me up for suggesting it, I would offer her a position on the Grid," Lucas replied wryly.

"It wouldn't matter," I grumbled, "And stop conversing as if I am in another room."

"Yes, you are correct in the cause of Ros'..." Ruth trailed off, looking away when sentiment was getting the better of her. She was one of the few on the Grid that remained human at heart. Many- when it came down to it- did not care to linger over the memories of the fallen, and that was what turned many into detached machines programmed for one purpose. _Yes, sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side, but that was what composed us into our flawed human selves...we were meant to care- we were meant to have shortcomings and failures. If sentiment was such a defect- natural selection would have evolved it out of our genetic makeup._

I reached into the pocket of my wool coat and held out my father's handkerchief. She glanced down at the embroidery and gave me a nostalgic smile. "Not the first time, eh?" I mused softly.

"I am glad to know that shortly before your father's death was not the last time I would see this again," she replied in earnest, and dabbed at the corner of her eye. She was lovely and beautiful in a way that can only be described properly in such an austere way...she was Ruth.

"Harry wanted us to extend an invitation to Ros' service," Lucas explained when Ruth made no move to continue.

"I would be honoured to go," I answered wholeheartedly, "But I do not know if Ros would appreciate me being there if she had any say in the matter."

"You stuck with her- wiggled your way into her mind the way you do. She respected you for what you were willing to do to help us that day- and she may have run a background check on you at a later date though."

I groaned and buried my head in my hands...another person's pity I did not want. "Get in contact with me when a date for the service is set up," I mumbled, "I will be there."

"Of course," Ruth said as she rose to her feet and handed me my father's handkerchief back. "Lucas, we should get back on the Grid," she suggested, but Lucas had once more become a statue- rooting to the sofa and staring listlessly into his tea. "Lucas?" she called out softly.

"He will catch up with you," I supplied, my brow furrowed almost painfully as I looked upon my dear stranger-friend. I motioned with a nod of my head for Ruth to see herself out whilst I rose from my chair. I padded gently across the small distance between us, and once more found myself kneeling at his feet. Slowly, I reached out and wrapped my hand around his forearm; his skin was cold to the touch, and my warm hand seemed to draw him out. His eyes snapped up to lock blows with mine, such detachment could be found in those amazing azure.

"That look that only you seems to bear- no pity, no sympathy. Just empathetic comprehension- you could withdraw a man's darkest secret without asking it of him," Lucas grunted emphatically, and his eyes dropped down momentarily to look at my hand that still gripped him tenderly. "Sarah was murdered...after moments of me being with her."

He was not her murderer- he never could bring himself to kill her, no matter how he felt about her. And yet, he bore the guilt of the man who did. Lucas- despite his detached, stoic persona as a Spook- was a man who cared deeply for all the right things, but it seemed they were never his to keep.

"Will you stay here tonight?" I beseeched faintly, my thumb idly caressing the smooth expanse of alabaster skin, "Please, Lucas, it would mean the world to me if you would." My other hand fell over one of his and gave it a plaintive squeeze.

Lucas lurched to his feet and hastily set his now cold cup of tea on the table behind me. He did not even cast a second glance at me over his shoulder as he left my flat, which I was thankful for- so then he did not see the unmasked hurt that slipped past my defenses. Once more, like a puff of smoke, he was gone from my life.

He did not come to me in the night.


	7. Chapter 7

_Series 9 Episode 1 _

Ros' service was beautiful, though it visibly pained her parents all the more that so few were in attendance. Ruth struggled through a beautiful poem, and as she was returning to her seat- our eyes met. She changed her route and came to sit beside me; her hand darted out and desperately took hold of mine. I leaned into her while I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze; she was relying on me to get her through the service in one piece- and I would see it done.

Ros' parents made a hasty departure- surely not wanting to be with the people that were associated with the cause of their daughter's untimely demise. The remaining agents of Section D gather together while their Head and a Senior Officer drew away to converse with one another. My eyes were rooted upon Ruth as she conversed with my godfather. My father used to swear up and down that the moment Harry realised what Ruth had to offer- there would be too many moments wasted for her to give it a chance. Her shoulders tensed, but from what I could see her brow softened...Harry was opening up to her years too late.

"What do you think they are talking about?"

"He's asking her to marry him," I murmured in pained knowing, "After thousands upon thousands of moments wasted- he is finally asking her." Lucas looked at me with blatant surprise, and so I pressed on. "My father used to rant until he was blue in the face about what a fool Harry was that he let a woman of Ruth's unmatched calibre slip through the cracks. And now, I imagine Harry has realised it too."

"You are looking well," Lucas murmured congenially.

"Lack of sleep looks good on everyone, so I hear," I lied curtly, and my lips pursed. I was still hurting over the fact that I had stayed up waiting for him to pick the lock and sneak into my flat. He needed closure- if not for his sake, then mine.

"Angry also suits you-"

Ruth raced up to me and embraced me fiercely. My arms folded around her, but my eyes remained fixed on Lucas. He was watching me, too, and his eyes darted all over my face for the answer he would not know until he asked. "Thank you for being here," Ruth whispered. _I needed you here_. That statement was unspoken, but it hung around us like a cloak.

And Lucas looked on.

_Series 9 Episode 6_

I should get a copy of my flat key for Lucas- that way there would not be the risk of long term damage on my lock. My self-induced smirk fell at the sight of his hunched shoulders as he resumed his post of being a statue on my sofa.

His hands were stained copper from recently spilt blood.

I set aside my groceries and filled a basin with warm water; I stole a multitude of glances over my shoulder at Lucas. I kneeled at his feet, and stared at his stained hands. _Like the traitors of the Roman Senate_. I pushed the fictitious musing aside as I dipped the linen cloth into the steaming water; the excess water trailed down my arm as I cleansed his hands from the tell-tale scarlet. His silence pained me. _Speak to me!_ Slowly, his hands returned to their proper state whilst the water became tinged red, and yet I kept my hands wrapped around his. I did not realise I was crying until my tears dropped onto his hands.

"I'm sorry- I shouldn't have come-" Lucas stammered, and rose frantically to his feet.

I gripped his hands with a brutal, bruising force to stop him. "Stay," I ordered in beseechment. Something was troubling him; his eyes darted about as I kept him fixed on place. I guided him back to the sofa. "Lucas, what happened?" I murmured tenderly.

"Bad day," he dismissed gruffly, and rubbed his face so that he would not have to stay anymore. He only rubbed his face when he was troubled and stressed.

I knew there was more- more that would not be spoken to me, or anyone else. What scared me was how collectively out of control Lucas appeared to me. His eyes betrayed him; I could see the frantic speed of his thoughts flicker through his mind. He was consumed by the flicker that resided in every mortal being...he was scared. I slid warily behind him on the sofa and folded my arms around him as best I could. He fell into me like a child haunted by night terrors, his fingers bit at my skin. There would be bruises in the morning. I rested my forehead in the crook of his neck as I drew him closer; I no longer mocked the cliché that nothing else mattered when in the arms of your love...I cherished it as a reality...

_Later..._

Somehow my body knew it was early morning, despite having yet to open my eyes and fully awaken. Fingers combed reverently through my hair that had fallen over my face, and then the hand stilled once it cupped the side of my face. Warm, soft, thin lips caressed mine with a painful tenderness- and as suddenly as the lips arrived, they were gone. I nestled further into the cushions of my sofa until my mind caught up with the rapid succession of action. My eyes snapped open. "Lucas?" I called out sleepily, and when I received no reply I called out again frantically, "Lucas!" I sprinted down the front hallway while I cast my head about wildly in search for the person I knew, deep down, would not be there. Whether by moments, minutes, or hours- I knew that I had missed Lucas' silent departure.

I collapsed against the front door in a flood of tears. I wiped away the tears, but like a Hydra more fell in its place. Something was wrong- Lucas never portrayed such frailty as he did last night. He was about to do something reckless- I knew it. Despite all the thoughts that flickered through my mind, the only thing that was clear- Lucas was in trouble.

My mobile was ringing.

Slowly, I rose to my feet and swayed down the hall to where my mobile rested on the counter. _Number Blocked_. "Hullo?" I sniffed into the receiver.

"_Kiley, this is Ruth. Was Lucas with you last night?_"

"H-How did you know that?" I stammered breathlessly.

"_He wasn't on the Grid, nor was he at his flat. The only sensible solution left was that he was with you...Kiley, are you crying?" _

I let out a faint whimper in ascertation and stuttered, "Ruth- Ruth, I'm scared."

"_Did something happen between you and Lucas? Kiley, I need you to tell me everything._"

"I think he is in trouble," I explained frantically, "He wouldn't tell me what is going on, but something is terribly wrong."

"_Did he tell you anything?_"

"Nothing- nothing at all-" I mumbled, glancing furtively over to my sofa in hopes that he would be sitting there like my residential statue.

"_I think it would be best if you took it easy for next two days,_" Ruth urged.

"Promise me you will call when you get the chance when you see Lucas..."

"_I will do my-_"

"-Promise me, Ruth," I interjected, impassioned.

"_I promise...good bye, Kiley._"

The line went dead.


End file.
